Front Door: 15 Magos Avenue

At some point the dreams started
becoming more real
than I was comfortable with:

I’d wake up
on the front lawn, covered
in grass. Everything looks too normal.
Sometimes someone’s walking
in the front hall; other times
there is no front hall. The whole first floor
is like one of those roadside attractions
in South Texas. Each room
leads to another room, like a map
always a step ahead
of its cartographer.

The first time this house was built
it didn’t survive the Civil War.
It was just a carriage stall—but still,
must’ve been awful for the stall boys.
At least they woke up before their beds
would have burned them alive.

That’s the story, anyway.

After the ash was cleared,
a famous singer planted
the seed of our house.
She even hosted the town’s first party.
Then she sold it
and disappeared
from the history books.

It’s unsettling how easily that happens.

How even a house
can become a story.
How even stories disappear
when you’re looking somewhere else.

Survey

Brand New

Notes

I wanted to have most of Estuary II written by the start of 2015. Instead I've been on a three seven-month break, taking lots of inspiration from crappy TV and my newfound passion for photography. Part I is now starting to get clearer, which will make Part II a lot easier to write.

Thanks so much for reading.

xo,
Adam

Who are you?

I'm a poet, editor, tinkerer and designer. I love making books, pickles, and something just south of sense.

If you’re here at all, it means we’ve probably met, or you know someone who knows me. Thank you for being here. I put my heart, spirit, blood, and knuckle grease into this story for 12 years. It means so much to me that you’re here, reading it.

So it’s with great sadness I’m putting my strange, endless story on hold. My heart is with my photography these days, and has been for several years. I’ll keep the site up until the domain expires, and then it will return to the form of so many other unfinished stories: a meticulously organized collection of chapters on a personal computer.

Thank you for 12 wonderful and transformative, demanding and soul-wracking years.